kateryna yakovlenko

i find the comprehension of the gaps in ukrainian art history to be a very interesting topic. from what i see, even research intended to illuminate, expand, and deepen understanding can often become a ‘gap’ itself. and this is also one of our challenges: to record, describe, and try to analyse not just the artworks themselves, but the changes that are taking place and affecting the artistic field in general.

i like to think of these empty spaces as museum walls, particularly now that some museums are closed, and their collections are concealed. how should a museum operate in this situation? one of the most eloquent examples was “meanwhile at the khanenkos’,” an exhibition reflecting the empty museum halls and addressing the topics of concealed art objects and evacuation (what is worth saving, what is not). the exhibition explored the role of a museum during the war, and its function in general. the project was curated by katya libkind, organised by maksym poberezhsky, and communicated by olya nosko. featured artists: andriy boyko, bohdan bunchak, oleksandr dolgiy, andriy sydorkin, oleksiy romanenko, roman mykhailov, ihor makedon, dobrinya ivanov, taras kovach, dima kazakov, stanislav turina, oleksiy shmurak, viktor borovyk, valentyn radchenko, andrii boiko, bohdan bunchak, oleksandr dolhyi, andrii sydorkin, oleksii romanenko, roman mykhailov, ihor makedon, dobrynia ivanov, taras kovach, dima kazakov, stanislav turina, oleksii shmurak, viktor borovyk, valentyn radchenko

we can view these walls not only as empty but also as partially or completely painted, carrying history and memory within themselves, still conveying something to us. of course, the first thing coming to mind is “the blue panel” by vova vorotniov from the “ukrainian body” exhibition. it exemplifies a portrayal of the unsettling ‘procedural’ soviet and post-soviet space. 

in the context of martial law and archiving, i think of the ‘wall evidence’ project, which certainly transcends contemporary art and serves more as a testament to genocide. however, it is important in order to understand the aggressor’s language.

graffiti writing is another vivid example of walls speaking. unfortunately, i haven’t yet come across any research on the evolution of street language, its narratives, and how street artists are responding to the war. this type of art is often unnoticed and short-lived, yet it remains a crucial part of the artistic process and response to the war.

why do i pay so much attention to the topic of the museum and its value? in the exhibition “our years, our words, our losses, our searches, our us,” our curatorial team leaves empty spaces for works that do not exist in ukraine. one of these spaces is dedicated to a work we know nothing about: it was either never created, lost or forgotten, and we also know nothing about the authorship. not only is it important in the context of art history, but also in understanding the processes of culture that lie beyond our attention and reasons for their obscurity. it refers to the periphery, both physical and visual. in our exhibition held in the upper historical hall, we curated an exposition following the principle of the traditional museum hanging. our aim was to critically examine the role of art within the broader context of cultural history. we explored the issue of the capacity of museums and institutions in general in times of war: how works are created, how they are protected, whether they are able to survive the war at all, highlighting the efforts it requires. nikita kadan brings up a very similar topic in his exhibition, “looking into the gaps,” at voloshyn gallery. among the participants were: kateryna aliinyk, serhii anufriev, yevgenia belorusets, andriy boyarov, davyd burliuk, dasha chechushkova, olya yeremieieva, oleg holosiy, konstantyn-vadym ignatov, nikita kadan, katya kopeikina,  vlodko kostyrko, yuri leiderman, kateryna lysovenko, krystyna melnyk, maya nikolaieva, oleg parfionov (parfion), maria prymachenko, vlada ralko, olena ryzhuk, anton saenko, sana shahmuradova tanska, tiberiy szilvashi, bohdan sokur, illia todurkin, fedir tetianych, yaroslav futymskyi, florian yuriev, tetyana yablonska, unknown artist, unknown artist.

the museum is a significant institution, it visualises our cultural history. therefore, i believe art historians should examine contexts, biographies, and phenomena, while contemporary curators should actively seek out artists and assist them in realising their works, exhibiting them in diverse spaces beyond traditional museums. critics, in their turn, must critically examine these issues within the present, considering both local and global processes. cultural journalism’s role, perhaps, lies in documenting current processes that will recede into the historical distance. preserving all these components is crucial, and everyone has a significant role to play in it.

kateryna yakovlenko

i often emphasise that work with the archives did not begin in 2022. there was a lot of interest in 2014, right after the maidan and at the beginning of the war. this attention was driven by the emergence of new research projects. i remember a big discussion about the role of archives organised by the method fund, which took place at the national art museum of ukraine. however, this interest did not arise out of the blue in the post-independence era. its waves, perhaps slightly smaller or maybe the same, existed before — we can’t comprehend them because we had no direct personal connection to them. therefore, our idea of knowledge is also linked to our ignorance. in this sense, i can say that art history is like a stormy sea: you are constantly being swept away from the shore by another new wave, discovery, and piece of information, even though it might seem they should set you right.

here, i’d like to mention anatol stepanenko’s works. he began his artistic practice in the 1970s and tackled a wide range of topics. he created works in specially designed spaces, often abandoned or neglected, to comprehend the state of society during the transition from the collapse of the soviet union to the establishment of independence. during this time, he actively engaged with chronicles. in 1993, he created an untitled installation in the old, abandoned building of the kyiv-mohyla academy. he “planted” a tree and projected archival footage related to the formation of independence onto the back wall (again, we’re referring to walls) of a cluttered room. for stepanenko, this space symbolised the past, its varying appearances over time, how it was addressed and interpreted. he incorporated trash and found objects into his work, which resonates deeply in the context of history and oblivion — representing what is consigned to the ash heap of history.

despite the interest in the archives, we still lack the materials and knowledge.

illia todurkin addressed the issue of archives in his exhibition “preparing for loss.” according to the exhibition description, “in anticipation of the imminent loss of his artworks, illia todurkin developed his own methodology for their preservation. they are valuable as artworks in themselves, but the exhibition presents the art objects from the perspective of a potential threat of future disappearance. to preserve these things, the artist thinks not only about the possible scenarios of their ‘deaths’, but also develops models for their ‘resurrection’: various forms and methods of copying that grow out of the materiality of the objects themselves, their scale and significance. the author first recreates these things in copies: from reduced handmade replicas to technological reproductions. here, objects exist face-to-face with their clones. where does the aura end up when a work of art and its technical copy meet in the same place and time? they do not just overlap but also form new unities of both primary and secondary, death and resurrection. in the future, they may die, but their copies will remind us that they did exist, and the recreated image will resurrect not only those lost visual forms but also the crumbs of time of their presence.”

this project reflects on the history of loss in art, focusing not only on the works themselves but on the human beings involved.

i believe that historical and archival elements are just two among the many surfaces contemporary authors engage with. the challenge lies in constructing ongoing narratives, possibly multiple, from archived dialogues, enabling us to reference them in future discussions, engage in arguments, express indignation, or reach agreements.

kateryna yakovlenko

the topic of language and the issue of speech are pivotal in contemporary visual art, especially in the context of contemporary ukrainian art, which extensively integrates words and text. several artists exemplify this approach: yaroslav futymskyi, dasha chechushkova, maria matiashova, eliza mamardashvili, illia todurkin, stas turina, yuriy biley, andriy rachinskiy, katya buchatska. artists like denys pankratov, bohdan bunchak, yevgenia belorusets, kateryna aliinyk, asia bazdyrieva often feature text in their diaries. access to these diaries becomes public through publications, exhibitions, and other public events. they serve as records based on personal experiences or observations — some of which could be considered as found materials.

eighteen months ago, i began collecting materials with the intention of creating a book focused on words that suddenly became significant. it was supposed to be an art book featuring works and texts by ukrainian artists. i assembled a folder with reproductions on google drive and discussed potential uses for the publication with the artists. the book aimed to explore how vividly words can emerge on a visual canvas. but now i see that this idea has transformed.

writers also explore words in their work. ostap slyvynsky’s book “dictionary of war” is a notable example. here, each chapter delves into a different word or phrase that takes on new symbolic meaning. the english title of oleksandr mykhed’s translation is strikingly eloquent — penguin literally named it “the language of war”. these texts and discussions reflect on the power and crisis of language, and have all been crucial in their respective times. recently, i discussed language and the meaning of words with stas turina. he said that, unfortunately, there is no common ground between writers and artists, and therefore these discussions do not intersect. i think it’s important to have this kind of shared conversation.

language is always a living organism, constantly transforming. but now, it is changing under the influence of weapons. katia buchatska’s “spring,”, the open group’s “repeat after me,” and zhanna kadyrova’s “palianytsia” address these military influences and the unique, borderline experience of coexisting with war. language is one of the reasons we are killed, repressed, imprisoned, and oppressed. this reminds me of oksana chepelyk’s video installation “the deaf choir” (1998-2004). actually, method fund also addresses these issues.

another question is how and for whom to write on such art when critical language is also evolving. if the text is created for a western academic audience, it needs an appropriate structure and terminology. however, the peculiarity of our time is that this language often fails to capture and convey the full scope of events. it oversimplifies, generalises, and strips away the pathos and essence. my primary tool is text. it initiates personal challenges related to writing and accurately naming things. recently, i have frequently referenced deborah vogel and her concept of “white words”, which lack additional meaning. she addressed this topic in the 1930s, and this idea resonates perfectly with our current attitude toward words. her experience of living in times of repression speaks to us today in a contemporary manner. but it’s not the word itself that has changed; rather, our attitude toward it. some things no longer matter or will matter, while others will become even more significant. all this weight and value are determined solely by our experience, practice, and life.

i wrote many lengthy texts during the first year of the full-scale invasion. however, after a year and a half, i seemed to lose the ability to write — the war experience weighed heavily on me, affecting my concentration and focus. it felt like the text was slipping through my fingers. getting back into writing took me a while, and i feel this process is still ongoing. these are the thoughts on the inadequacy of words, and on text that vanishes and drops out of sight. despite these challenges, the text holds a deep importance, particularly when written with emotion and sincerity, as it allows one to rediscover oneself through language. texts also have to do with archives, which brings us back to the initial questions about archiving, research, and museums.